Interviewing Prisoners
by Zolnerovich
Summary: Stryker and his men conduct some interviews on a few of the subjects that they've captured after their raid on the mansion. Reviews welcomed.
1. Ian Manlos

Author's Note: Essentially this is a collection of interviews conducted by men under command of Stryker during X-Men 2: X-Men United. This takes place after the raid on the mansion, prior to the rescue, most of the kids don't know where they are, etc. Mostly original characters, some original innovations (for example, I'm disregarding Wolverine Origins for the movie-verse version of Weapon X). For now the kids are original characters, I'll probably do some of the cannons if people like them enough for me to continue. Reviews are encouraged. Thanks.

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"Name?"

The room was dark, illuminated only by a single source which came from directly above the table at which two men were sitting. Well, one was a man, the other was an adolescent boy no older than sixteen. The boy was in his pajamas, the man was in a suit.

"I uh… I want my lawyer."

"Cute, kid. State your name."

"Ian… Ian Manlos."

Ian looked frightened; he could barely remember what had happened. He had been asleep, in his bed at the Xavier Institute. The next thing he knew he woke up to someone yelling, then someone kicked in his door, shot something at him, and he blacked out. He woke up in a cell, a few minutes later he had been brought in here. What was going on, where he was, he had no idea.

"Ian Manlos." The man repeated as he pulled a manila folder out of his briefcase and laid it on the table. "Son of Karl Manlos, you were born in Houston Texas, correct?" He opened the folder and began to take some notes with a pen from his jacket.

"Yeah… uh… how'd you… yeah"

"Is your father also a mutant?"

"What? No… no he's a geneticist for some biotech company… I think. I don't know… he's in Europe on business, he's been there for a while… part of the reason I'm at boarding school…"

"When did you realize that you were a mutant?"

"Uh… about three years ago I guess."

"How old were you?"

"Uh… about thirteen… look I… what is this about exactly?"

"And how did your powers manifest?"

"I uh… I don't see how that…"

"Answer the questions, then we'll let you go."

"Right… uh… well… I can talk… well that is, I can communicate, with non-human life forms."

"How exactly?"

"Well… uh… the professor explained it to me once… I uh… everyone's mind has these electro-chemical synapses that uh… that cause waves of electric energy – brainwaves, heh. These vary from person to person, and well… from human to mutant… and from animal to human… My mind operates in the animal range. So… like a telepath can speak to a human, or a mutant, I can communicate with non-humans, or mutant. My brainwave is below theirs."

"You can't communicate telepathically with humans or mutants?"

"Well… no. I can't hear them, and well… they can't hear me."

"What?"

"Yeah… I uh… like, for some reason, with my powers…. My brain is different. Most telepaths aren't even able to hear or detect my mind in any way, let alone talk to me."

"Most?"

"Well, I haven't met one that can yet… even the professor, he uh… he can't talk to me telepathically."

"Interesting…" The man scribbled some notes on the legal pad that lay in front of him. "When did Xavier approach you about entering his school?"

"He uh… He didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Well my dad… Well uh… I mean the Professor… he can't exactly… well to him… to him and his equipment I don't exist so… I'm mentally invisible, right? So my dad… my dad found him and approached him about it."

"Did you want to go to Xavier's?"

"Not at first… but I thought… I thought the chance to use and develop my abilities in the open would be pretty neat."

"And did you?"

"Well… yeah, a little."

"What are you able to do with your abilities currently?"

"I uh… I can control them a little better now, exert some control over the animals…"

"The professor encouraged you to exert control over the creatures you can communicate with?"

"What? Uh… no. No, in fact he discouraged it rather strongly… I just… noticed I could do it one time."

"Did the professor train you in any other ways?"

"What… what do you mean?"

"Have you undergone any physical training from the professor?"

"Well there's a pretty tough physical education program… but no, not really."

"I see." The man continued to jot notes.

"What is the range of your ability?"

"What do you mean…?"

"How far away can you exert this control from?"

"Oh… uh… I don't… I don't know exactly… A few blocks? I mean… we'll let's see…" The boy paused, closing his eyes for a moment, then he began to speak slowly, halting after every phrase. "Four dogs… seventeen deer… a bear… no… two bears… and a lot of squirrels… like twenty or so."

"You can tell the difference between the animals?"

"Well, yeah… like the professor can between humans and mutants. I can tell the difference between a canine and a feline… but not too much… I can't give you the types of bears or dogs… dogs… or… or wolves…"

"How can you tell if they're wolves?"

"Flashes of mental images… from the dogs… they're… they're hunting something…"

"Impressive."

"There are no bugs…"

"What?"

"Bugs… I can't… there aren't any near here. Not even, beetles, or anything…. And there's, there's snow on the ground outside."

"That's enough Ian."

"No I… where are we?"

"That's enough for now. You may rejoin the others."

"I thought you said you would let me go if I answered the questions." There was an accusing tone in the boy's voice.

"We will, don't worry, but I have other interviews to conduct first."

The dimly lit room seemed to fill with light momentarily as the door opened, two uniformed men came in, one held a syringe, and the next thing Ian knew was darkness.

The man sitting at the table gathered up his folders, getting his papers in order.

"Well?" Asked a seasoned old man who stood by the door.

"My recommendation is to move him to the Colonel's facility, he'd make a good addition."

The two taking care of the boy looked to the old man in the doorway. "Do it." He instructed.

"Yes sir." The two nodded, as they removed the boy.

"Bring in the next child." The man in the suit instructed to some men in the hall.


	2. Aras Sarkisian

"What's the hold up?" The man sat alone at a table, his patience thinning as he spoke into a radio that he held in his hand.

"He's still asleep."

"What?"

"It looks like he took more than one dart."

"Then bring in another one," The man shook his head as he let go of the radio button. "Idiot."

"Yes sir." The answer came back. It was a few minutes more before they opened the door to bring in the next kid.

She was a young girl, well, high school age probably. Short cut black hair, darting eyes of a brilliant green color looked to the man who sat calmly in his chair, thumbing through his files.

She was yelling, but the man wasn't really listening. Snippets and phrases like "let me go", "who are you people", and "what are you doing", more questions than anything else. He waited until the men placed her in the chair and restrained her, then it would be his turn to ask the questions.

"So, what do they call you at school?" His opening question, an attempt to gain some familiarity.

"What do you think I am, stupid? I'm not answering any of your questions."

"Well I can root through my files until I find yours, it has your picture, but it's usually considered polite to introduce yourself."

"Well screw that." She spat the words as she struggled against the restraints.

"The hard way it is." He said as he picked up his briefcase. "Females…" He flipped through a couple, opening, glancing up occasionally to see the girl looking at him.

"Here we are." He placed a candid photo of her on the table. She recognized it from a few months earlier at the mansion. "First name: Aras, last name: Sarkisian. Quite a name, what is that, middle-eastern?"

The girl was silent, her eyes were the only thing on her face that seemed to speak, and they spoke decibels louder than her voice could have.

"You could just answer me, nothing wrong with civility. I'm here to help you."

Her look was one of arrogant disbelief.

"I assure you. My duty here is to determine whether or not you might be considered a threat. I assure you, by acting with this determined hostility you only ensure your continued incarceration. Work with us, and I promise-"

"Save it. I know I ain't getting' outta here."

The man smirked ever so slightly. "We're the good guys, we won't hold you for more than forty-eight hours without cause, but give us cause, and well… you could behind bars the rest of your life."

"For what? Bein' a mutant?" He'd struck a nerve, now she was talking.

"For being an aggressive, hostile mutant who presents a danger to herself and to innocent civilians."

She smirked. "Whatever."

"So what is it that you can do?"

"Well I'm a damn good soccer player." That arrogant, determined, smirk remained.

"I was referring to your mutant abilities."

"I know. I told you, I'm not answering your questions."

"I have your file right here, I can infer from this that your ability has something to do with precognition."

"Precognition?" She shook her head. "Never heard of it."

"Says here that you've been documented reacting to events just prior to your awareness of them."

"That's ridiculous." She answered. "If I was aware of events before they happened then how would your little troopers have been able to tranquilize me in the first place? I'd be in hiding right now instead of stuck in here talkin' to you."

"And if you had managed to escape, where would you have gone?"

"Nice try."

"Home? To your parents?"

"No."

"Where then?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'd hide in a tree."

"Cute."

"What do you really want to know? If I agreed to answer one question, just one question, what would you ask?"

"I would ask which of your classmates do you think is the most powerful?"

"Seriously? That's what you would ask? that's a stupid question."

"To you perhaps."

"But it would give you a heads up as to who to keep sedated, or perhaps, on who to keep in prison, who to run tests on, experiment with." She smirked again.

"You have quite an imagination kid."

"So do you Doctor Steele."

The doctor raised his eyebrows. "Your file says nothing about you being telepathic."

"Your name is written on the inside of your briefcase, you left it open when you pulled out those files. Doctor Ethan Steele, top letter – memo… I don't need powers to be able to glance at the obvious."

"Impressive, you got all that from one glance?"

The girl chuckled a little bit. "I've been reading it this entire time."

"But the briefcase is turned away from you. Can you see through the lid?"

"Don't be stupid, I just had to concentrate a little bit."

"What?"

"Your files should have been more thorough on my powers."

"Not precognition… radar-like senses?"

"I'm not answering your questions – how many times do I have to say it?"

"Or at least one of them… touch probably. Yes… if you had an enhanced sense of touch you could feel any molecular movement, such as air flow, vents pushing air through the briefcase, under the table, into the room, onto the skin, and your brain interprets it and puts the pieces together."

She didn't answer, but her eyes spoke loudly once again.

"I see. Interesting. Now… it says here that your sister goes to the institute as well?"

"Leave her out of this."

"Your younger sister… I wonder if she's on the list of the captured…"

"What? No, she got out, I know she did."

"Well, I'll find out for you later."

"Sure you will, you'll find that she made it out."

"Perhaps." He smirked. "Your parents…" He thumbed through her file more deliberately. "Interesting. Immigrants? No, only your mother. Your father's a butcher?"

"And what are your parents like? Are they proud of you?" She retorted.

The doctor ignored her. "You parents live in Ohio, just outside of Dayton? It says here they moved there after college?"

"And yours live where… six feet under?"

"My parents are none of your concern."

"As mine are none of yours." Her tone was raising in hostility.

"I have to get to know you, to get to know your mental state, parents are a big piece of a person's development."

"So you're a psychiatrist?"

"Of sorts, I prefer to think of myself as an analyst."

She smirked. "Of course you do. You get inside our heads and figure out what we know, what we don't, and then try to draw up the reactions of those close to us."

"Very good. You even managed to turn the conversation around a little bit."

"Why don't you just call those men in the hall to come in and take me back to my little dungeon? I'm not going to answer your questions."

"Very well, perhaps I'll call you back when you're a little more hospitable."

He pressed the button on the radio and the two men re-entered the room and took her, keeping her restrained but removing her from the chair. "Place her in the observation facility." He said with a nod as the men carried her away. "And bring in the next one."


	3. Antonio Gregorio

Author's Note: Thank you to all of those who have decided to keep reading this, and to those who have reviewed (well the one).

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This time he entered the room after the kid had been brought in. They were already waiting for him, restrained to the chair that he sat opposite from. He sat down in his chair and adjusted his suit jacket, pulling his briefcase onto the table. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you, I only want us to talk."

The young man who sat across from him was the oldest he had yet interrogated. He had to be a senior in high school at the very least. Dr. Steele wasn't even sure if he was a minor. His skin and hair were dark, his eyes were blue, and despite the restraints the young man seemed quite relaxed. He kept a slight smile on his face.

"What's your name?"

"Antonio." He answered with a slight nod. "Antonio Gregorio. My friends, they call me Tony."

"Very well Tony." Doctor Steele thumbed through his files once more. Gregorio, Antonio – it had been towards the bottom.

"It says here that you enrolled at the Xavier Institute this past winter?"

"Yes."

"You're a foreign student, originally from Italy?"

"Yes."

"Your family, they live in Italy?"

This seemed to amuse the young man. "Yes. My family has lived in Italy for many, many years."

"Where did you go to school before the Xavier's Institute?"

"I had a private tutor."

"Why didn't you attend an institution?"

"My father insisted. He wanted us to be educated. Not educated like most people in most places where they think the goal of education is to be able to read and write so that one can effectively communicate and understand traffic signals and other things necessary for daily life, but education where it was understood that the goal was always unattainable, but the pursuit of knowledge, of thought, of reason, of art, of creativity was the point of the exercise in the first place."

"You seem to be very educated."

"Yes."

"So why did you chose to go to Xavier's?"

"Well regardless of what you believe the institute is a fantastic preparatory school. The gifted does not just refer to mutant ability, but it was able to keep me interested in pursuing education – which is quite a feat in and of itself."

"How and when did the professor approach your parents to enroll you?"

"He didn't. My Nonno knows him, they met years ago."

"Your… what?"

"Sorry, my grandpa-pa." The young man corrected.

"How did your grandfather and professor Xavier meet?"

"I don't know, I suppose you'll have to ask them."

"You've been very agreeable and cooperative thus far, what do you hope to gain by trying to protect your grandfather?"

This also seemed to amuse the young man. "I don't quite think you understand. I'm being polite, yes, and I'm being agreeable, but I will tell you nothing that a google search on my name wouldn't bring up."

"And what else would a search on your name bring up?"

"Well it would probably take you to my website."

"You have a website?"

"Well, my brothers have a website. They have miniature profiles on all of the family there."

"Why don't you save me the trouble?"

"What would you like to know?"

"What is the extent of your mutant abilities?"

"Sorry – file not found."

"Cute."

"What else would you like to know?"

"Are other members of your family mutants?"

"You seem to have a theme running with your questions here. Why don't I just spare you the trouble – stop asking. If you keep pressing the matter I'll take it as an insult and this conversation ends."

"Fine. Tell me about yourself, what do you like to do?"

"I have my art."

"Your art?"

"Yes. I sculpt."

"That's… interesting. You sculpt as part of your studies at the Xavier Institute?"

"No, it's a hobby that I've had since I was young. The professor doesn't mind so long as I clean up afterwards. I actually make quite a bit of money on it."

"Congratulations. Do you mind if I asked where you learned to sculpt?"

"My mother taught me."

"What's your mother's name?"

"Lucia."

"And your father's?"

"Gianni."

"Both Italian?"

"Yes, my whole family is Italian – we're from Italy, so it just sort of comes naturally." His bemused eyes showed the laugh lines as his smile came onto his face.

"What does your father do for a living?"

"He works with my grandfather."

"And your mother?"

"She died several years ago."

"And your brothers?"

"I have two older brothers – the oldest is a professional singer, opera – the other is a professional actor."

"Any other family?"

"I have a sister, she paints."

"You all seem to be very artistic."

"We are. We all have our arts, my father insisted."

"And yours is sculpting?"

"Yes."

"What kind of things do you sculpt?"

"People mostly. Statues, statuettes, things of that nature."

"They must be very good."

"Oh they are."

"Do you use your powers to sculpt?"

The smile came back onto the young man's face. "May I have some water please?"

"Not just now. But once the interview is over you may." The doctor answered, as he looked over his notes. "Are your family members also mutants?"

"It wouldn't matter if they were or not really, you can't touch them."

"Because they're in Italy?"

"Because they're my family, and my family does things differently than you might expect."

"You seem fairly confident in your abilities – or the abilities of your family."

"My mutant abilities you mean? I'm confident in all of their abilities. I know where their limits are, just as I know what my own limits are."

"And what are your limits?"

"Probably the same as your own, with one or two differences."

"And those differences would be."

"Restraints would hold you even if you didn't want them to."

This caused the doctor to pause. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing really, I just wanted to see if you were human." The boy smiled, seeing the doctor waiting for an explanation he continued. "A human would have shown a fearful response, glanced at my restraints to make sure they were in place. A mutant would have been too confident in his own abilities to protect himself should I get lose."

"And would I need to protect myself?"

"Probably not. I have no intention of trying to escape. I shall simply wait until you realize that you're absolutely powerless to do anything against me."

"What makes you so sure that we're powerless?"

"Oh you're not powerless. I realize all the things you can do to those here. But I can guarantee, that should you bother to search my name, or search my father's name, your superiors will tell you to back off."

"And why would they do that?"

"You should ask them."

"You're a good liar. Making up stories, trying to intimidate, a very interesting defense mechanism."

The boy smirked. "You assume that I feel the need to defend myself."

The doctor smiled. "Whatever your powers are it doesn't seem that they helped you to escape."

"No. I used them to get some of the younger children out first. Your men caught me in the act, shot me in the back. Not very noble."

"Where were you helping them escape to?"

"I merely opened up a few pathways out. Where they went to after that was their own prerogative."

"So you expect me to believe that you have no idea where the others are hiding?"

"I expect you to believe that I'm hiding the information from you and continue to ask me about it until you realize in frustration that I must not actually know and then refocus your efforts to actually searching for them but realizing that with so much lost time your chances are incredibly slim."

"Oh I assure you, we are looking for them."

"I wish you the best of luck." The young man chuckled. "May I return to my cell now? I think I have all the information I need."

The doctor paused for a moment. There was something about this kid that he didn't like, he was far too analytical, and he wanted to know what was in that kid's mind… He clicked the radio button. "Please escort Mr. Gregorio back to his cell."

"Thank you." The young Mr. Gregorio said as he took his arms and placed them in front of him, rubbing the freed wrists just as the two guards walked through the door.

Without hesitation the guards pulled their guns on him, three tranquilizers made impact, and the young man went limp.

The doctor leaned over the table and examined the restraints. They were still in tact, still bolted, but the young man had apparently been able to remove his arms from them. "Impressive." He muttered to himself. "Pick him up. Take him back to his cell. I'll want to question him later with some more… invasive, interrogation."

The two men nodded, and carried the young man back to his cell. "Man, that other kid's still sleepin'."

"What about this one?" The other asked.

"Yeah, he'll do. He's young; the doc should be able to make him crack pretty quickly."

"Ten bucks says it takes at least ten minutes."

"You're on; I say he crumbles within five." The two men nodded as they closed the door to Antonio's cell.


	4. Alex Dunamis

By the time the doctor got back to the room the kid was hysterical. He didn't sign up for the military for this. He hated kids. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he hated other people's children, not that he had any. Specifically, he hated children that he had no control over. He felt powerless over these youngsters that he was analyzing. Some of them provided useful information, some of them were not very helpful, this one could prove to be the last necessary interview. If this kid knew any information, he would probably share it.

The boy was young, junior high at the most. He was in tears, and he must've been crying since he'd woken up and realized where he was. His eyes were reddened, his face was even starting to show signs from the stress of pushing out the few remaining tears. His skin was tanned but not heavily so, his arms showed the tan lines to give a quite striking contrast between his pale normal skin and the summer skin he'd gained.

The doctor sat down in his chair, trying to ignore the sniffles of the restrained boy. "My name is Dr. Ethan Steele, I'm here to help, I'd like to talk to you about a few things." The gentle approach seemed the best to begin with.

"Please… I just wanna go home." The boy was pleading already, he would be easy to negotiate with.

"You will. I just have a few questions for you first. If you answer them, then you can go home." The doctor said as he opened up his briefcase.

" 'Kay."

"What's your name?"

"Alex… Alex Dunamis."

"Where do your parents live?"

The sniffles tended to drown out the first attempts at words, but eventually he answered. "New Hampshire."

"What town?"

"Suncook."

"Are they mutants?"

"No."

"Do you have any family members who are mutants?"

"My older brothers."

"What are their names?"

"Eleos, and Julius."

"They don't attend Xavier's with you?" The doctor flipped through his files.

"No, they're in college."

"I see – where do they attend?"

"Eleos is studying Law at Yale, Julius went to a seminary in Texas."

"Interesting." Seemed to be the only comment Steele could muster as he scribbled some notes.

"When did you first start at Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters?"

"Last year…" The boy seemed to be getting better at holding back the sniffles and sobs.

"Do you like it there?"

"No… I miss my home…" The tears started again.

"What are your powers – how do they work?"

"I don't know exactly… The professor says I can change the temperature by doing something on the… the… the molecule level, or whatever."

"You can make it warmer or colder?"

"Just warmer."

"I see."

"And when did you first discover that you were a mutant?"

"Last summer."

"Describe it for me."

"Well I…" The boy sniffled. "I was at a friend's house, and well…" He wiped his nose on his shoulder. "I… well this girl and I were… y'know, nothin' bad, just… we were kissin' and I started to blush and… well my… at first I thought there was somethin' the matter, like I was havin' a fever or somethin'. It was my power."

"How hot can you go?"

"Hot enough to melt metal."

"Interesting."

"How many friends do you have at the institute?"

"A few…"

"Any particular girl you like?"

"…not really… I uh… I sort of have a girlfriend back home…"

"I see."

"Can I-"

"You didn't answer my question about your friends. How many would you say you have – just off the top of your head."

"The top of my-? I guess about six or so good ones, like close ones."

"Where are they now?"

"Well… I don't know."

"Come on, you're just a little kid. I don't want to have to prosecute you – but I need to find the others before I can let you go."

"What did they do wrong?"

"The children have done nothing yet, that I know of, but the teachers on the other hand… Well let's just say I have a few questions for the rest of them."

"But you said I could go home if I answered your questions…"

"And you will – I just need you to answer this one."

"I don't know where they are…"

"And you expect me to believe that?"

The boy started sniffling again, the tears welling up just behind his eyes. "I don't know! They told us in case of an emergency to head to the lower floors – to find a teacher!"

"Where are they?"

"I just wanna go home! You said if I answered your questions I could go home!" The tears were becoming angry.

"Not just yet." The doctor stated quite firmly. "Did the professor ever tell you where to go in case something happened to him?"

"I told you – he said to find a teacher!"

"What if you couldn't find one!"

"I'd go to the basement!"

"And then what?"

"I dunno! I'd hide!" The kid began to struggle against his restraints. "Let me go!"

"If you were to escape from the mansion where would you go?"

"I'd go home! Let me go home!"

"What if you had to hide because you knew it wouldn't be safe?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Yelled the kid.

"Come on, why don't you just tell me where the others are hiding?" The doctor stood up, leaning over the kid. He tugged at his collar, he was sweating, he was millimeters from making this kid break.

"Why? What do you want to do with them?"

"I want to ask them a few questions, that's all."

"Questions they don't know the answers to!" It wasn't a question.

"I promise I-"

"You're just a big fat liar!" The kid was red in the face from crying and yelling. "Let me go home!"

The doctor was about to retort when the button on his radio beeped and the door opened. "Doctor! Get out of there!"

He didn't really think it through, he wanted to stay and question the kid, but before he could two hands gripped him and literally yanked him out of the room with the door slamming shut behind him.

"What the hell was that soldier?" The doctor barked at the guard.

"The temperature sir.."

"What?"

"The temperature was rising. It'd gone up twenty degrees in that room since the kid started getting angry…"

The doctor placed his hand on the door and immediately withdrew it in pain. The scalding metal burned his hand. "What the-?"

"Mutant sir. He raises the temperature of himself and the surrounding air…"

"When he's angry. Shit. My notes are in there." The doctor kicked the wall.

Both the soldier's leapt into position as something started shifting the door. A hand reached through metal that seemed to be sliding away, melting.

The boy walked through the melting door as though it were water splashing against him. The temperature immediately went through the roof. The following seconds seemed like hours.

The doctor panicked. That fear that he'd been suppressing every time he sat down with one of these kids, it lashed back with renewed vigor. He panicked, and without thinking his reflexes kicked in. He'd been in the military for years, but there was nothing like basic training. He remembered it vividly, and in that moment, he wasn't in Alaska, he wasn't interviewing kids, he was in the middle-east and a gunman had just knocked down the door of a safe-house and began firing. He whirled around, grabbed the gun from the guard and fired a burst round of three bullets into the boy.

The echoes from the gun died away long after life had passed from the boy.

The doctor returned from his instincts with one knee on the floor, two hands on the gun propped against his shoulder, one eye closed, the other scoping through the sights.

"Good shot sir."

The doctor pushed the gun back into the hands of the guard. "Clean this mess up. Retrieve my notes. We're moving this operation."

"Yes sir." The guards tested the air, seeing the kid on the floor with enough inner workings spilling out of him didn't cool the air automatically, but the temperature was definitely dropping – the door was already hardening.

"And get my notes."

"Where are we moving the kids to?"

"Fort Liberty. Leave a few here for Stryker's observation room."

"Yes sir."

The doctor shook his head, brushing off his suit jacket. "Make sure the next kid is ready to go when we get there."

"Yes sir."

The doctor thought for a moment. "Safe trip home kid." He said as he reached down and closed the kid's eyes. His body was still warm to the touch, hot actually. Home, that's all the kid had wanted; now he had it. Home… "Home…"

"What sir?"

"Surveillance, I want surveillance at the home address of any of the uncaught Xavier kids. Now."

"Yes sir."


	5. Madelyn Lyon

Ah, the good warm air of his facility. He hated that lake base of Stryker's. He'd removed several promising subjects to interrogate, and he planned on continuing the investigations while keeping an eye on the situation. Besides that, Stryker had said that the Wolverine had been there… Steele had read the files, he had no desire whatsoever to be there when Wolverine tracked them down, which he probably would. If he had seen Stryker… well, his movements weren't that hard to predict. With the attack on the mansion, the abduction of the professor and half the students at the mansion, and Wolverine's abilities… it wouldn't be long until he caught up with Stryker. That would be a future that Steele didn't like to think about.

As it was he was back in his own office now. A nice desk, a nice couch, a few nice chairs populated the well-lit room that was practically encased in bookshelves. Unfortunately, due to the nature of those being detained, he would not be able to perform the interrogations here where it might be easier to coax the information. Rather, he would need to be down in the interrogation room in five minutes. That was doable. He picked up his briefcase and headed towards the lift.

He entered the elevator in his well lit office décor hallway. When the doors opened again it was still well lit, but much more sterile. Concrete walls lined a corridor that contained several metallic doors. He walked down a few paces before entering the room. There was a table, two chairs, and a large mirror on the wall. Besides that the room was bare with the exception of lighting. He sat down by the door, incase it was necessary to make a rush out of the room like last time.

He placed his briefcase in front of him and fingered through the files. Dunamis was now deceased, which was unfortunate. When these children were looked for that might cause a problem. Gregorio was an arrogant ass, but he was smart, and definitely worth keeping if he could be controlled. Sarkisian was a lost cause, but Manlos… he showed a lot of promise if he could be programmed properly.

He set those files aside. He fingered through another set. He still had a list of names that he meant to interview. Their files showed some promise. The guards had at least managed to process them now, so he knew who he was getting before they got into the room. He pulled his next "clients" file. Madelyn was her name. Madelyn Lyon.

He skimmed through the file, reading over it. So far their information was sorely lacking at this Xavier's Institute. They would need to fix that. His goals were simple. Determine the location of the missing children, question the ones he had, determine Xavier's prerogatives, and whether or not they constituted a threat to the United States.

So far he hadn't found any information to suggest that these children were soldiers. On the contrary, he had found most of them, with the exception of Gregorio, presenting any kind of hardened reaction to the events or the questions that he posed. Stryker would have him believe that each of these children were trained killers. He knew that much at least was false; had they been trained at all he would have been dead already.

He looked at the girl's photograph; she seemed to be in her mid-teens. Short by standards, but that was not entirely uncommon. Her height was noted as 5'1", her build was slight to match her small frame. Her hair was blondish brown, artificially highlighted, and her eyes were brown, no contacts or corrective lenses. The photograph was taken in a town that he guessed was not far from the mansion, shopping bags at her sides.

He looked up as the girl was ushered in by the two guards and then restrained to the chair. Her eyes focused on him, not even glancing at the guards.

"Good morning Madelyn. My name is Doctor Steele." He introduced himself.

She met him with silence, her eyes still gazing at him, wide, as though they were attempting to see through him.

"I thought perhaps we could begin with a few questions?"

She still did not speak.

"Can you speak?"

"Yes." She answered, still staring, not even moving her eyes.

"Good, this will be easy then; we just need you to answer a few questions."

"Okay." She responded, blinking for the first time.

"First, for the record, would you mind stating your name?"

"Madelyn Kayleigh Lyon"

"That's a nice name."

"I didn't pick it." She retorted.

"And you're a mutant?" He changed the subject rather easily.

"Yes."

"You attend Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters?"

"Yes."

"How long have you attended there?"

"Going on three years now."

"When did you first discover that you were a mutant?"

"Shortly before my twelfth birthday."

"What happened?"

"I opened my eyes, and I could see."

"Excuse me?"

"I went blind due to a disorder when I was about six months old."

"And your mutation, it restored your sight?"

"Yeah… and it, well I can see more than most can."

"What do you mean?"

"My sight… Well… Have you ever read the Picture of Dorian Gray?"

"I can't say that I have." Doctor Steele shook his head.

"It's a novel by Oscar Wilde, a good read I used to listen to it all the time. Well… in the book the main character, Dorian, is vain, and young, and beautiful. He gets his portrait done, and wishes that the portrait would age, and he would remain. Well he gets his wish, but it's not that simple. Not only does the portrait age, but it displays his very soul, which becomes so twisted as his life goes on that he hides the portrait away while it slowly drives Dorian mad."

"I see… and what does that have to do with your mutation exactly?"

"Well to explain it simply, I can see the portrait. Or, well the portrait of those I see."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"That's a mirror there right?"

"When you look in it, you see your physical reflection, correct?"

"Yes."

"When I look at it I see your physical reflection as well, that's a mind thing, but when I look at you. I see the very condition of your soul… I see you for who you really are."

"Interesting." The Doctor's response when he didn't know what else to say. "So, what does my soul look like?" He inquired.

"Are you sure that you want to know?" She smirked.

"Why, is it that bad?"

"Oh you have no idea how deep the veins of human corruption and misery go until you see through my eyes. People, men and women alike, who would seem innocent, are often hiding something more shameful."

"Oh? What am I hiding?"

"You have fresh blood on your hands." Madelyn answered quickly.

She answered so quickly that the good doctor glanced at his hands to check and see if he had accidentally gotten any blood from the earlier fiasco on him. He hadn't, or at least if he had it had washed off earlier.

She laughed. "It may or may not be there physically, but that doesn't matter. I see the fresh and dripping blood none-the-less, but it's practically nothing compared to the dried and caked blood that stains your entire wretched body. Your face is twisted into a smile with a hungry leer in your eyes. You're a digger, you tunnel your way into others with a smile and then you use them, you're a puppeteer, the strings attached to your fingers with one around your neck that you don't seem to see yet."

Her words caught him slightly off-guard, and his thoughts turned for a moment to his own past and those darker moments of his life when he'd been forced to break himself into the man that he had become. "So I don't have a very attractive soul?" He smirked.

"You don't believe in the existence of the soul?"

"Forgive me, but not really."

"The spiritual essence?"

"I'm more of a scientist."

"My words have you scared."

"What?"

"I – see – your – heart. Your – soul – I – see – you." She spoke slowly in what seemed like an attempt to make him understand. "You're frightened. That's fine. You asked about my powers, I was just being honest."

"Yes well… you seem to have a good grasp of your powers, do you practice them often?"

"They're always on. Nothing I can do about it."

"That must be tiring."

"Not really, just scary sometimes."

"Scary?"

"Can you imagine being twelve and seeing the horrible monstrous figures where you once saw friends and family?"

The doctor paused and raised an eyebrow. "I suppose not." The only thing he had to relate it to was once making the discovery that someone he knew was a mutant, and had been hiding it for several years. "Can you tell the difference between human and mutant?"

"Not from my powers. They're all on equal ground when it comes to how I see them."

"I see."

"Did you know any mutants before going to the Institute?"

She paused for a moment, thinking back it seemed, or analyzing him further, he couldn't tell. She was good at keeping an expressionless face, which made her harder to read then the others. "I think I might've."

"You're not sure?"

"I'm not sure if they were a mutant, no. I thought they might've been, but I never found out." That was her explanation.

"They didn't come to the institute?"

"Not every mutant comes to the institute. That's like me claiming that all humans live in New Jersey and know one another. Broaden your scope, open your eyes."

He scribbled a few notes down, but didn't speak right away like he had been. "So, you're mutation, can you tell what someone is thinking?" The doctor was curious.

"Kind of."

"What do you mean?" He wanted clarification.

"I can read their… expression. Their mental expression. Like, if someone is angry, I can see them making an angry face, even if they aren't physically making one. It's hard to explain, but, I see people's souls – as I've already told you, and that includes their current thoughts and emotions in a way."

"So you can see the state of someone's mind." He declared.

"Still not believing in the human soul?" Madelyn scoffed.

"Why should I? Why do I need to believe that I have a soul?" Steele asked as he jotted down his notes.

"What are you then, a body?" Her eyes scanned him up and down for a moment.

"Sure. Why not? I am a mind, a brain, set within a body." Steele answered. "Your ability allows you to see the brain and its functions in such a way that you literally see it."

She smiled. "You know a clever man once said, that it must be realized: You do not have a soul, you are a soul, you have a body."

"And who said that?"

"C.S. Lewis."

"I think I've heard of him." Steele said with a slight smile on his face. "But we seem to have gotten off topic. How many friends do you have at the Institute?"

"A lot, and yet… few."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I know a lot of people, I trust very few of them."

"That must be difficult, leading a life without trust."

"You've no idea."

"Are any of your friends particularly bad people?"

"Not most of them, there's one or two that stick out a little more than usual."

"Who are they?"

"I'm not going to tell you where my friends are."

"Why not? If you tell me where the bad ones are I can make sure that they don't get the chance to hurt anyone." The doctor defended.

"How can you help them when you're so far gone yourself? That's like the blind leading the blind."

The doctor didn't have a response for that, so he didn't make one. He merely made some more notations in his notebook. "Where are your friends from?"

"Most are from the East Coast I think."

"Any specific cities?" The doctor asked.

"I know Eddy is from Providence."

"Who is Eddy?"

"A friend of mine from the institute." She responded as she finally turned her gaze away from the doctor to the room around her.

"And what are his abilities?" The doctor asked.

"He can manipulate electromagnetic energy. Absorb it or something." She lied, and she felt terrible about it, luckily she couldn't see her own soul.

"To what extent?"

"He just absorbs it, I don't know how much he can take, and then his body can use it for energy."

"Like photosynthesis." The doctor hypothesized. Was he able to escape?"

"I hope so."

"Would he have gone to Boston?"

"Probably not. He's smarter than that."

"Would he have stuck together with the rest of the students from the institute?"

"I don't know."

"How old is he?"

"He's a senior I think."

"And you trust him?" Steele raised an eyebrow.

"He's probably the only one I do trust. He's a nice guy."

"I see," Was the doctor's response. "Different question: How does it feel being different? Do you hate people that are normal?"

"Of course not. I'm jealous of them. I would love to be blind again, or better yet, to be able to see normally."

"So you hate mutant-kind?"

"I don't hate any kind. People are people, mutants or humans, they're all filth and disgusting."

"I see." He jotted a few notes down.

"Can I go home now?"

"No, I think we'll be keeping you here for the time being. You'll be escorted back to your cell.

The guards came in on cue and took the girl away, while Doctor Steele gathered up his notes and papers in front of him to prepare for the next class. When he looked up – a hideous version of himself was sitting across from him. Strapped to the chair, and staring straight at him was a leering version of himself with his blood soaked hands cuffed to the arms of the chair.

"Going somewhere doctor?" His chained counterpart asked.


End file.
